Summer Camp

Recently, my memories of Camp Bonsall were jogged, and I just about went crazy. I hated camp; then, I fell in love with camp.

Do you remember the famous camp song "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah, here I am at Camp Granada?" To me, the funniest camp song ever by Allan Sherman.

Well, I could write a book about Camp Bonsall which was located on the Clarion River in Shippenport, PA.

There was a Settlement House in our little village of Woods Run, so we had an opportunity to do some very interesting activities. One of them was sleep away camp. We would go to Camp Bonsall for an entire week. I do remember we had to get the money up because I think one year it was $2.00 per child, and my mother sent three of us. (Mind you, my mother worked as a domestic, so she earned $5.00 a day plus lunch, and bus fare which was 10 cents), so $2.00 per child was a big deal. The family was all a buzz about the money; then, we went. We got new clothes that had to be marked with our names and packed into a duffle bag-- I think a pillow case. We had to wait for the Girls turn because the Boys always went first.

At Camp Bonsall we sang songs for every thing. It was like living in a constant operetta. We sang when we got up in the morning. It usually started with a bugle call of some sort. Then, at breakfast which was served in a huge dining hall with long wooden tables and benches lined up on both sides of the hall--like a prison-- we would eat and sing about every thing. We had to eat by group--I think we were sorted by age. Before breakfast we said the Lord's Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. However, before every meal, we had prayers and a song of thanksgiving. If any one was late for any meal we sang. . .

"You’re always behind just like an old cow's tail, you’re never on time like a ship without a sail. When Gabriel blows his horn on judgement day, you’ll be late; and then, they’ll say you’re always behind... just like an old cow's tail."

Would you believe more than fifty years later and that song still rings through my head. When the grands come to visit, and they're late for a meal; I start to sing my little camp song. Of course, they think I am crazy, but before you know it, they know my little camp song too.

In the mornings, every one had to go to the river for a bath. If you were part of the first group to get into the water, at the end of camp you would get a little fuzzy white polar bear statue. My sisters’ and I are very competitive, so we decided to join the fun. At first, it was too early for me to get up to get a bath in a cold river. I would imagine the fish were feeding, and I didn’t want to be any part of their fodder, and it was too cold. My younger sisters’ continued to cajole me about the early morning bath in the river. So, one day I consented to go to the river with them. Needless to say, the water was murky, dark, and cold. I was encouraged to put my "big toe" in the water, so that I could get a polar bear statue. It seemed imperative that we take home that little white fuzzy bear statue. Every year my mother would line them up on the living room mantel and smile proudly at them. If she only knew, my sisters’ would wink at me and giggle under their breathe.


The truth is that the water in Western Pennsylvania is so cold people, who live in that area, didn’t even use ice boxes--refrigerators-- they used spring houses to keep their food. So can you imagine how cold the water is. Incidentally, we washed with Ivory soap, and Ivory and cold water don’t mix. The soap leaves a whitish film on your skin, and it itches when it dries. Back then, we didn’t use lotion like we do today as though it is food--a necessity.

In the evenings, we would sit around a huge camp fire and sing songs and scare each other near too death. The little kids had to go to bed first; then, we would really let loose of the terror. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to join in the fun. Afterwards, we would walk the dark trail with a lantern back to our cabin which was filled with bunk beds and no windows just open walls and no screens. I don’t remember too many bug objections because I think it was too cold for mosquitoes. But, the flies were as big as a horse I guess that is why they are called "Horse Flies," and they would bite the living mess out of you.

There is one thing that I really remember and that is work. You know we Pennsylvanians have this Benjamin Franklin work ethic bred into us. And so, every morning we had to make and air out our beds, clean the cabins, and clean the soot off the lanterns and fill them with kerosene, and if needed a new wick. The campers in each cabin had to take turns with serving the meals and washing the dishes and putting every thing back in place. We had to prepare the camp for visitors and the fire pit for the evening camp festivities. Each group had to prepare a play or presentation for the last day of camp ceremonies. Also, in groups, we had to keep the trails clean and the stones that lined the trails painted with a lime wash so that no one would get hurt, and we had to keep the out houses -- the one and two holer's-- clean as well. After we finished our chores, we would swim like crazy, go on nature hikes--I knew every plant species in PA, and some would ride horses--not me, and canoe or row the rowboats on the river. So, we worked hard, and we played hard. We had good clean fun, and we loved each other it was a warm experience. Believe me, there was the good, the bad, and the ugly, but all in all it was really good.

When I think back about sleep over camp, the song in my head always starts with "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah, here I am at Camp Granada." We had a great memorable time.